The Account of Acathla
by Vinya
Summary: Buffy couldn't just shove Angel into the mouth of Acathla; but a body and some blood are still needed. Is Xander strong enough to survive a stay in one of many 'hellish' dimensions?
1. Prologue

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Title:** The Account of Acathla  
**Author:** Vinya  
**Rating:** PG-13 for language and possible adult situations  
**Feedback:** Yes, please  
**Spoilers:** Season One, Season Two  
**Archiving:** Just tell me first  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine; please don't sue.  
**Summery:** Buffy couldn't just shove Angel into the mouth of Acathla; but a body and some blood are still needed. Is Xander strong enough to survive a stay in one of many 'hellish' dimensions?  
**Pairing:** None as of Yet; None Planned

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**The Account of Acathla****  
By Vinya**

Acathla the demon came forth to swallow the world. He was killed by a virtuous knight, who pierced his heart before he could draw a breath to perform the act. Acathla turned to stone, as demons sometimes do, and was buried where neither man nor demon would ever want to look.

…Unless, of course, you're putting up low rent housing,

Angel to Spike, Season Two, 'Becoming'

Prologue  
"Willow," I said to her, "She told me to tell you…"

I wanted to tell her not to be an idiot. This wasn't Angel, her lover, this was a demon. A creature who would as soon kill her as look at her. This was the man, to use the term extremely loosely, who was the scourge of Europe; killing and torturing thousands. Murderer…

There was blood on his hands that could never be washed off, soul or no. But to her, to her a soul meant goodness. She didn't know. She was so silly. So innocent. So god-damned dumb.

Hitler had a soul. Rasputin. Kahn. Alger Hiss even, to name a few.

Who cared if you were bringing back a killer of thousands? Who cared so long as you get your boyfriend back? I wanted to say it. To yell it. To take her, shake her, and get it through that bottle blond head of hers. Yeah, I saw her at the supermarket. She thinks it's this huge secret.

"Tell me what?"

What do you think, Buffy? What would she say? Would she say anything you would listen to now? If there was any word that Willow wanted to say, that went against what Buffy wanted… what would it matter?

It was all about her. _Always _about her.

She has family who would die for her, given the chance. A boyfriend, however evil, that would kill for her. Friends who have stood by her side since day one, ready and willing to help her push through any troubles she came across.

But it was always woe as her. Buffy's sad life. After all, it's not like the rest of us have problems, right? It's not like the rest of us don't have our own demons and creatures to face… Whether they be in our minds, or the graveyards, it doesn't matter. It was always about her.

Miss Perfect Summers.

But this time it couldn't be. This time it was about others. About the people she was given these powers to protect. She didn't earn them, buy them. She was given them. She was given them, and told that her life was no longer of any consequence, because the entire point was that it was about others.

And now Willow wanted to help. Sweet Willow… I love her, and I don't. I love her as a sister, a friend. A best friend. But more then that, sometimes… but not in the way that she wanted. My love for her was unconditional; but not in the way she wanted.

But now she had Oz… and I had a world to save.

And she asked me to tell Buffy. To tell her.

I love Willow… but sometimes, she doesn't get it.

The world ain't flowers and sunshine. The world isn't a nice, pretty place. People die. People get hurt. People are in living torment every day, and none of them seem to get how lucky we are that we even know what's going on, let alone that were able to fight it.

I had a world to save; damn the consequences.

"Kick his ass."

She nodded, and continued on. An outside watcher might think it's because she realized what she had to do, but if she were given the chance to have her Angel back again, I think she would have taken it.

Even now.

She walked on, going off on some tangent about how I was just supposed to get Giles, and get out. "You're not here to fight," she had said, "I can't protect you. I'll be too busy killing."

I wanted to scream. Shove her even. It wouldn't hurt her, but maybe it would get the point across. Funny Xander is being serious for once. Is fighting the only thing she knows? Understands? I don't _want_ her to protect me. I don't want her to protect little ol' me, standing in the corner screaming. Can you hear my sarcasm? I was strong; stronger then most. I had gone through my fair share. I was ready to pay the price.

I never did need her, not like that, but she just doesn't get it. She has to be the protector… What she doesn't understand, can't even, is that the world got on just dandy for millions of years before she came along. Humans for thirty thousand. Why is it that in her mind, everything will go to shit now? Why is it that after seeing just how many 'end of the world's there are, she doesn't get that it's _always_ been like that.

There will always be somebody to fight.

It's not just her.

And I nod, the dopey side kick way that I do. I do what she says. I smile. I want to hit myself now, for doing this. Why does she act like this, I wonder, and now I know. Because we let her. Because as much as we protested and told her that we _wanted_ to fight, in the end we let her do it her way. Always her way.

She's a control freak.

It always has to be about her.

I heard about what Angel had yelled to her. It got mentioned sometime, though I can't be sure when now. "You don't get it," he had screamed, "It's not about you. It's never about you."

The only intelligent thing I have ever heard him say.

I love Buffy. I know her life is hard, and maybe I don't always get it… but I know what fate meant her to be. I've researched enough to know. Buffy the girl, the real girl underneath all the muscle and weapon, she is my friend, forever. No matter her stupid choices; god knows I've made my fair share.

But Buffy the Slayer… just a means to an end.

Sometimes I pity her. Her life's meaning is to do what she does until she dies and somebody else can. Literally, he life makes no difference in the world. She's here to slay, and no matter what happens to her there will always be somebody to do it.

Like I said, Buffy the girl, my friend. Buffy the slayer… a tool.

I could feel my wrist under my cast though… and something snapped. No, not the bone. A feeling, a thought maybe. I made a decision right then and there.

If she couldn't close it, then I would. However I could.

Because it was never about me either.

It was never about her. Willow. Giles. Me. It was about humanity in general, being able to live. Being able to have the chance. Being able to fight for your own right to live, and not have it decided for you in little Sunnydale by people who you don't know. There is no one person needed for humans to live so long as humans continued to get the chance.

If she couldn't, I would.

Like I said. I have a world to save.

I had to hit one of them over the head with my cast, and I've gotta say, that's one feeling I hope I never had to repeat. Ever. I could feel the bone re-breaking from the impact, and wondered for a moment what the doctor was going to say… but that brought my thoughts back to Giles.

Giles who would likely need a doctor one hell of a lot more then I did.

Giles who was likely to have one hell of a lot more ouchies then my broken wrist did.

I zigged and zagged, passing by vampire after vampire, even spotting Spike and Drusilla for a single moment. I wondered just how Spike was walking around… shouldn't he be in a wheelchair? That _is _what Buffy had said, right?

But it didn't matter. I could see a side door, with darkness beyond, and I knew that was where they were keeping Giles. Within reach, but out of sight. I ran, dodging random swipes and swoops from the vampires, ignoring the fight that was even now was raging on between Angeleus and Buffy.

When I was there I looked in, and saw Giles sitting; his head slumped over, his hands obviously tied behind his back, and his glasses falling from his face. And blood. More blood then I would have cared to see under any circumstance, dried around him. His sleeves, face, and chest were covered in it.

And there was a mark down his forehead, still spouting dark blood, but slowly now… was I too late… or was it beginning to heal? God forbid it be the first.

If we survived this… I was going to kill Buffy. Then hug her. Then kill her again.

"Giles!" I nearly yelled before realizing I would bring attention to myself, "Giles…"

"Xander…" he said faintly, startling me. I had hopes, wished, dreamed that he was still alive… I couldn't let him die. I couldn't let him be dead, even in my head. But the fact that he wasn't even unconscious after everything. It surprised me. Maybe it shouldn't have; he had gone through his fair share too.

"Can you walk?" I asked quickly, coming behind him to try and undo the bonds that kept him there.

His eyes were still closed, and his head bobbed a bit, but instead of saying yes or no he uttered, "You're not real."

I didn't know what to say, or what to do. What could have been done to him that he wouldn't even trust his own sight? His own hearing? This was Giles, smartest guy I had ever known…

And then I remembered Drusilla. Drusilla calling me her dark kitten, when I had placed the love spell on her by accident. She had eyes that could make you think things… she would get into your head… And I understood.

"Sure I'm real."

"Trick," he muttered, "Get inside my head… make me see things I want…"

I wondered for a moment just what it was they had showed him that would make him tell. Just what was it that he wanted to badly that Dru would draw on it, pulling it in front of his eyes. Not money, not power; not Giles. Giles didn't go for that kind of thing. Woman? There was only one for him, and she was…

Jenny.

My heart almost stopped beating at the thought, and I nearly sighed. How badly I knew he wanted her back. Wanted to love her. Wanted to see her. It had to have been like it was with me and Will in the hospital. So close and yet so far.

I turned in front of him, looked him straight in the eye and said, "Then why would they make you see _me_?"

It was half way a joke, and half way serious; just enough to Xander Harris to really get him to look at me. Blinked. Blinked again. "Oh," he said, and a smile played on my lips, "right then," he continued, "Let's go."

And so we did. Nearly carrying him on my shoulder I dragged him past the fight and out the door, stopping only for a moment to let him lean against the outside wall. "Look Giles," I said quickly, "I… um, borrowed a car. It's up the hill over there, okay?" I pointed the way just in case, and continued, "I'm going back in. Either we come out and get you, or the world ends… but if it doesn't, and we're still not coming out… well, get away, okay? Get help?"

He tried to stand, tried to place a hand on my shoulder, but I gently pushed him back down. "Xander…"

I knew what was coming. I knew what he was going to do. The stay safe, stay away speech was already ingrained in my head and I didn't need a repeat performance right now. But instead a great sadness passed through his eyes. "I told him…" he whispered, "Xander, I told him what he needed."

"It's alright Giles."

"It's my fault if the world ends… if we die, it's all my fault."

"Giles," I whispered back, sitting on one knee and looking him straight in the face again, joking tone gone, "Remember lucky 19?"

"Lucky… 19?" His face was scrunched up in pressure, and the rational thought process was obviously a few too many steps out of his reach. Well, not that I blamed him or anything.

"You're not the only member of this team Giles. This is the entire human race. We are who we were taught to be. If the world ends, it's action and reaction. Hundreds of years, thousands of people… not just you."

"It's my fault."

"It's Willows. She should have done the spell right the first time. Buffy. She should have killed him ages ago. Mine. I should have been a bit faster. A bit smarter. Cordy. She could have come back sooner. Giles, it ain't just you. This isn't about you. Or me, or anybody.

"This is the entire human race. Right here. Right now. We are what society taught us to be."

He looked at me, and blinked once. Tears so close to falling through pained eyes…

I had never thought I would see Giles cry; but here it was. The world was ending… and there was nothing I could do for him. Nothing I could say or do to make him feel better. So I took one of his hands in both of mine, and gave him a sad shake.

"Giles," I said as I stood, his eyes on my every movement, "All of eternity has made us come to this point, and I don't know if were going to live. But either way, I'll see you later. Alright?"

He nodded, and placed his head in his hands, trying to stem the flow of tears. "It's alright Giles," I said as I walked back to the door, "If this ain't a damn good time to shed a few tears, then there's no time at all."

TBC


	2. Chapter 1

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****Note 1: **Anon reviews are now being taken. Please, if you want to flame something about my story, do it with maturity. Point out what is wrong, how you would fix it personally, and why. If you like something, tell me about it in particular. This is my first attempt, and feedback is both appreciated, and needed. Danke. 

**Note 2: **Danke to the following people for reviewing; ParadigmShifter, Rivana, Moonjava, tohonomike, Shinigami-chan, Jane McCartney, and KColl2003.

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**The Account of Acathla  
By Vinya**

Acathla the demon came forth to swallow the world. He was killed by a virtuous knight, who pierced his heart before he could draw a breath to perform the act. Acathla turned to stone, as demons sometimes do, and was buried where neither man nor demon would ever want to look.

…Unless, of course, you're putting up low rent housing,

Angel to Spike, Season Two, 'Becoming'

Chapter 1  
Looking into the room I could see several things. The lights had dimmed; body parts lay scattered in piles of dust, and two swords lay side by side, thrown on the ground by the two lovers who stood in front of the statue of Acathla. They were talking. Just talking.The spell had worked.

And behind him, unseen to the happy pair, the demon opened his mouth emitting a light so bright it almost hurt to look at it. But it was still unseen to the two lovers re-united.

He spoke, and I could hear the lost and confused tone in his voice. Muddled. Scared. Upset. He had awoken to find himself fighting to the death with the woman he loved, and for a moment I understood what he was thinking. What he was feeling.

Like the sword through the chest that he deserved for his crimes.

Buffy heard my footsteps and turned towards me, with Angel looking over her shoulder. "Xander!" She called out, "Is Giles alright?"

I snorted, and despite my semi-fuzzy feelings for the vampire, I sent a look of pure loathing towards him, receiving only confusion in return. "He'll be alright. That is, if the world doesn't end."

She looked to me, confusion on her face as well now, and then it hit her. She turned to the statue, along with Angel, and they stared into the bright light. "Oh god," she murmured, "No… no, I can't. Oh god Xander, I can't. He's Angel, my angel, again."

"I know."

I nodded sadly, understanding. She couldn't.

Buffy the slayer was a means to an end. Buffy the girl had nothing left. Nothing. Nothing but him; and she couldn't give him up. Wouldn't.

And she shouldn't have to.

When I had come in, it was with the knowledge that I would kill him myself, standing in front of her if I had to. I would push that sword down his throat, and shove him in, and damn the consequences.

Because it wasn't about her.

But then… what's the point of humanity if not the people? That's what humanity is. People have to be able to have choices… and they shouldn't be ones that will end another persons should they make it. I bent down, and picked the sword up.

"Xander?" Angel asked slowly, "What… what are you doing? What's going on?"

I rolled the sword in my hand, feeling the blood on it. Slick. Darker then it should have been. It was his. Deadboy's. "You know," I said quietly, "I was going to kill you."

Angel blinked once, and tears welled in Buffy's eyes. She knew what had to be done.

"But I won't."

"What?" the voice was unanimous. Giles from the doorway, standing against it warily, Buffy with tears in her eyes, and even Angel, confused.

"All that's needed is his blood…" I whispered, "Doesn't really matter who it's on… I read the book though; a body and some blood. Right?"

I turned to Giles, looking at him carefully, the question still in my voice. And… he looked back, even sadder now, knowing what I was going to do. Knowing he couldn't stop me. Knowing… that even if he could, were all just a means to an end. And he needed the best over here. He nodded. A body and some blood.

Buffy needed Angel to love her. Slayer needed Angel to fight. Giles needed that too…

But, me? I joke, I fool. It's important, I know, calms the stress and gives people a little bit of leeway. But when it comes right down to it, personal happiness isn't as important as success.

And with that I walked towards the portal; it was getting wider by the moment. "See you on the other side," I whispered to him.

And then, sword in hand, I was gone.

And the trio just watched on.

Angel watched as Xander jumped through the portal, but he couldn't be sure as to why Buffy and Giles looked so upset. What was it? Where did it go? And how, bloody how, did it get there in the first place?

How had _he_?

"Angel," Buffy whispered quietly, grabbing his shirt and pulling him into a vice like hug as she sobbed, "Oh god, Angel, he's gone."

"I don't…" His voice was still muddled, and he hugged her back, "I don't understand."

"He… you were Angelus again, Angel… we had to stop you."

"No," he sad, shaking his head as if to disprove the very notion, "No. I can't. I wouldn't."

"You did," Giles replied as he slowly inched his way forward, "You were Angelus. That was the portal to the dimension in which Acathla meant to suck the entire world into."

He blinked, once. Twice. Shook his head again.

And thoughts began rolling back. Memories, nightmares, perverted dreams. "Oh lord," he murmured, clutching Buffy tighter, "What did I do?"

"Nothing sweetie," she said back, her voice hitching from sobs, "It was Angelus, never you."

"It was you," Giles nearly roared, "You knew! You knew you could lose your soul, and never told! You knew, and now Xander is in some hell dimension suffering for _you_! A man, a _creature_, that he hated!"

"Giles-"

"You did this," he yelled, waving his hands about to show everything, "Sent Willow to the hospital in a coma, forced Buffy to fight to the death with you, had his wrist broken! You killed Kendra!"

For a moment it was as though Ripper had come out again, as a bloody Giles stood there, his breath harsh and his eyes flared. "You tortured me, and nearly destroyed the entire earth in the process," the words were dangerously quiet now, "If you had ever sought redemption…"

"Giles-"

"Don't say my name!" He yelled again as he began back towards the exit, mumbling to himself quietly, "I've got to… Willow… We must tell Willow."

And as I walk, I learn and grow  
Try to understand and know  
That some are evil, some are good  
It has yet to soften the blow

Buffy put her face to his chest and sobbed all the harder, thinking of her friend. He was gone, probably forever, being tortured. She should have been the one to do it, to give her life for the world.

It was her destiny. Her duty. Her job to complete. But then… that's what he had said, so many times, about killing Angelus. It was what she had to do, and when it came to the final moments, she couldn't.

She had failed. Her, Buffy the Slayer, with powers beyond what any man could imagine, had failed.

Where he had succeeded.

All I wanted, all I need  
Is to feel a trust down deep  
And yet I can't, and wonder why  
There's no such thing as what I seek

And Angel turned to the portal, Buffy in his arms, and remembered all the insults that had been thrown his way. The comments that Xander had made when he had thought nobody was listening.

He felt like it should feel good that somebody who hated him so much was gone… but then a feeling came back to him. A knowledge that even Angelus had shared, had known, the second he had looked at Xander.

He was good. Not just good, but great. All of the famous people in history, many of him he had actually met, had done what they did because it was their job. Their fate. Their sacred duty even. But Xander…

He was a new kind of hero.

His duty had been to live right, go to college, get a home and a dog. Maybe a wife even. And he had known it. He had seen it. Instead he fought; not for the sake of fighting or for glory. Not for duty or fate. Not even because he wanted to.

And he was hardly suicidal.

He did it because… he did. It was that simple. It was right. Somebody had to do it. So he took it upon himself.

It was the ultimate in sacrifices for purity.

"The white knight," he whispered slowly, still looking at the statue.

And with that he began to lead Buffy away. There was nothing more that could be done here.

The white knight knows not of failure  
He seeks not redemption, but success  
And will not rest his tired bones  
Until he's done this test

TBC


	3. Chapter 2

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**Note 1:** Danke to the following people for reviewing; dogbertcarroll, Moonjava, Sandra18Brutal2003, BlackNightWolf04, eckles, salvory, LAYCE74, Silent Bob Foley, Rivana, ParadigmShifter, tp96, Bolo, Rorschach's Blot, peterv, Malaskor, TD Master, beth, impulse, Ari, pharfig, grim001us, TopQuark, KColl2003, Suzuka Blade, Aurora Snowstorm, Kalystia

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**The Account of Acathla  
By Vinya**

Acathla the demon came forth to swallow the world. He was killed by a virtuous knight, who pierced his heart before he could draw a breath to perform the act. Acathla turned to stone, as demons sometimes do, and was buried where neither man nor demon would ever want to look.

…Unless, of course, you're putting up low rent housing,

Angel to Spike, Season Two, 'Becoming'

Chapter 2  
_Xander could feel the swirling of winds around him, but he couldn't seem to get out of their way. It was everywhere, going in all directions, a thousand and one colours that he didn't even know existed, flowing with a sort of… natural instinct. _

The winds decided where they would go on their own, flowing in different directions and heading to different people and places. It wasn't as if fate guided them, because he knew at first sight that this **was** fate.

He looked downwards at himself, flowing and floating through the mists, and could see a golden cloud of light coming from his own chest. He breathed the winds in, and the light became stronger. But it didn't flow like the others, it stayed still, creating a cloud in front of him. Encircling him. Shrouding him.

And then another cloud began to come, one that was a rich mahogany colour, massed with a dark forest green. They seemed to be entwined with the golden light flowing from his body, but he concentrated hard on them…

The three separated, and for the first time in an age he felt something lift from his shoulders. An anger and resentment that was there as long as he could remember. His mind felt more free then he could imagine, and as he looked at the cloud of green he could have sworn he saw a face in it.

He recognized it.

"Hey soldier-boy," he whispered into the mist, not expecting it to travel.

It didn't.

The green mist seemed to evaporate then, disappearing as it had been meant to do so many years ago at Halloween. And he knew then that the other mist, the brownish hazy wind that came from his chest, had to have been the Hyena.

When both had disappeared completely he continued to float about, not exactly going anywhere, watching the golden haze in front of him. Enjoying the peace of mind that came with being the only person in there. Something he didn't he know he missed.

"You were not meant to be here," a voice came from above, and below, and everywhere, "This is not a place for you."

"Not exactly a hell dimension," Xander laughed, truly happy with the Hyena and Soldier gone, "Better then I was expecting though."

"You've done something foolish," another voice came, "You made a choice that was not meant."

"Hey!" Xander said, not quite outraged but getting there, "I made my choice, and I meant it too!"

"He does…" the first voice said, "It is not as it was meant to be, but it is. That is the way of things."

"We must fix it," the second voice uttered, and Xander recognized it as a man, "This can not happen."

"But it has brother," the second voice came, not obvious to be a woman as Xander's mind cleared, "It has happened, whether planned or otherwise."

"He can go back."

"He won't."

"And you propose?"

"He's made his choice. Let him fulfil it."

"The other was the one chosen to walk this path, he can not. He must walk his own."

"And so we will let him."

With that the voice were gone, and Xander continued to float in place, not moving. It was calm, comfortable… "Quite the vacation spot," Xander sighed slowly, "But I don't think I want to live here."

And with that he began to move; nowhere in particular, but rather just where it felt right to go. Forward, up, spiral, turn.

His golden glow moved, and he followed it, twisting and turning through fate itself.

Until, with a bang, he landed on his butt.

"And you thought that were we to let him wander through fate on his own he would end of somewhere useful!" A sarcastic voice said as Xander struggled to open his eyes, "It is as I always say! Human's are not meant to wander about on their own, choosing their own fate and beyond! It's simply… far too confusing!"

"And that's what makes it interesting."

Xander slowly looked up, recognizing the fact that eh was sitting on his very painful butt, his legs spread out in front of him, and his broken wrist free of it's cast. "Where am I?" he asked, "What did you do?"

His voice was accusing, as was normal with one who had grown up the way he had. He was in a plain room, small but not overly so, with no doors or windows that he could see. Looking up it seemed to go on forever, but he knew that there had to be a ceiling… somewhere…

Two people stood in front of him, a man and a woman, both wearing toga's. The man was scowling as if _he_ had done something wrong, but the woman smiled lightly.

"Of all the places to bring yourself…"

Xander screwed his face up in confusion, not knowing where any of this was coming from. He couldn't remember… his head hurt, his entire body hurt. The last thing…

Helping Giles to leave the building? Saying something?

The thoughts were lost in his mind, but at the same time it was as if he was missing something. He couldn't tell what, but there was something missing from his subconscious. He could feel it.

It felt better… but whatever it was that was gone had to have been _his. _And if somebody had messed with him…

"What did you do to me?" He asked as he pulled himself vertical, "What did you take?"

She turned back to her brother, not bothering to answer. "Do you hear that," she said to the man, almost excited, "He can feel them gone! Except for a few memories, neither had any lasting connection with him, and yet he can feel their lack of essence. It is extraordinary!"

"Yes," the man replied, his eyes going skyward as if to ask 'why me' to whoever was listening, "He's special. Now sister, he should leave."

"His soul found his way here on it's own," she replied hotly, "And it wouldn't have done that unless it had reason enough."

"Still-"

"Um, excuse me?" Xander interrupted, "Hate to be the third wheel and all, but I'm standing right here. It's rude to talk about somebody like their not in the room!"

"Then leave," the man said simply, and began talking to his sister again, only stopping when Xander put his face right up to his.

"There. Are. No. Doors." Xander said slowly, as if to somebody profoundly stupid.

"There were no doors when you came in," he replied, "And yet in you came! Leave the same way if you are so anxious. I for one, would be glad of it."

The woman watched this with a smile, her head bouncing back and forth as if at a tennis match.

"_You're _the one who brought me here," Xander snarled, "How the hell am I supposed to know how to leave again?"

"You brought yourself here," the girl replied, "We bring no one. People come to us."

"And just who are you then," Xander asked, sarcastic, confused and angry, "Who are you, that you exist only to be here?"

"She did not say that," the man replied, just as angry as Xander, "Only that we did not bring you here. The door opens when you choose to come, and when you are done it will open again. But first must be opened from the outside."

"What do you mean?" Xander said, taking a step back.

"We are the oracles," she said kindly, "We help those worthy to discover or change their fate. The door will only open when a worthy man wants to speak, and then will only come again for the same man. You have come through a different route- one we have yet to experience for ourselves. You must leave the same way, when you are ready."

Xander nodded, and shook his head, trying to remember what had happened last. He could get passed the memory of leading Giles outside now, to the part where he had picked up the bloody sword himself, ready to kill Angel.

"So…" he asked, "How, um, what I go about doing that?"

"That is something you must discover for yourself." she said simply, and took a step back.

And so, Xander closed his eyes, and simply let his mind… exists. There was no other words to explain what he did, or how he knew to do it. And then he was gone, leaving the oracles to bicker among themselves.

You think you understand  
You think that you must know  
But your mind, at this point  
Is blank like new froze snow


	4. Interlude

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**Note 1:** Danke to the following people for reviewing; RobClark, Dragonmage, DragonArmada, eckles, Meanthis, Layce74, dante hunter, dogbertcarroll, Sandra18, Metropolis-Rising, and Moonjava.

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The Account of Acathla  
By Vinya

Acathla the demon came forth to swallow the world. He was killed by a virtuous knight, who pierced his heart before he could draw a breath to perform the act. Acathla turned to stone, as demons sometimes do, and was buried where neither man nor demon would ever want to look.

…Unless, of course, you're putting up low rent housing,

Angel to Spike, Season Two, 'Becoming'

Interlude  
_Unknown Time, Unknown __Place_

Xander was laying on the ground when he first managed to break through the barriers of his subconscious, his arms and legs spread eagle and the bloody sword still laying by his side.

A quick look made it obvious that the blood had long since dried.

Picking himself up slowly, he cried in pain at the shock that ran through his wrist when he attempted to use it to prop himself up, dropping his body back to the ground with a thump- he had forgotten about it completely, and it even seemed that the cast had come off at some point or other, though he couldn't be sure when. Broken and splintered as he passed through time and god knows what else.

He blinked a few times, his back on the ground, the sun above him was spitting rays of sunlight right into his face, but he quickly adjusted to the pain as his eyes let themselves accept the level of lighting. Taking a moment to look around, he saw virtually nothing. It seemed to him that he was surrounded by tall grass, maybe as tall as his waist would have been had he been standing. It was course, like northern beach grass, and would probably cut bare skin after too much contact. It was a far cry off from the regular old garden grass he had come to know and hate mowing.

The wind blew, making the grass around him move slightly, rustling as the blades dragged across each other; he shivered. It was a cool wind, and it blew right across his chest…

With a start he realized that like his cast, most of his clothing had disappeared. _must have been during that fate thing, _he considered to himself, remembering everything that had happened during his time in limbo, _Probably not the best place to bring a carry-on bag._

His shirt was gone, but his pants had managed to remain on him- probably due to the belt that he had owned for as long as he could remember. One shoe was missing, though both socks were still on him. One had pooled around his ankle, but he was going to be grateful for whatever he got.

Last he could remember, he was supposed to be in hell right now.

Sitting up he looked above the tall grass, and still saw nothing any more helpful. The grass seemed to go on forever, on hills and slopes, and there wasn't a tree or rock to capture his wandering eyes.

Slowly, holding his still pounding head, and his throbbing wrist, he stood up. He stopped for a moment, seeing the sword still laying beside him, and picked it up. The blood had long since dried and had begun to chip off at his touch. He began to walk. Not in any particular direction, but with no idea where he was, and with no near sources of water or food, he really didn't have much of a choice in the matter.

"Alone…"

As Xander walked on, he could have sworn he had heard whispering… but it had only been the wind in the grass, playing tricks on his mind as he continued to trek on.

After the majority of the headache disappeared, he had taken stock of himself. He was covered in blood from the fight, both his own and Giles'; against the blood his skin looked just tad too pale for the hot sun above him. The hot sun that was _still_ beating down without mercy on his back.

He had found a cut on the side of his head, however shallow, that he figured must have been caused when he had been dumped… wherever _here_ was. It had been beating blood steadily for some time apparently, though it had stopped before he awoke.

His bent wrist, unfortunately bending in a very unnatural position, had turned an ugly shade of blue, purple, and worse yet… green. He would have used wood to splint it, knowledge he had gained during his stint as _Army Man_, but without any trees growing around him, or beaches for the wood to wash up on, there really wasn't anything he could do but hope to come across a hospital. Something that seemed less and less likely with every blistering step.

He had long since taken off his pants, opting for his boxers in the heat, and used the pant leggings themselves to wrap his feet so they wouldn't get any worse off on the sharp rocks and grass. He had been particularly grateful for them when he had found himself going through a field of prickly plants. They had looked like those small purple thistle that he knew grew some places, but they were far larger, and had a reddish hue to them as well. (1)

He felt sick. To his stomach, his mind, everything. Everywhere.

When he had jumped through that portal, it was with the knowledge that the world would be saved. He wasn't thinking about the consequences to his own body and mind. He hadn't thought on it for a second…

He had thought a hellish dimension would be one filled with rocks jutting out of the dead ground, fire spitting up from hole's that reached down right to the centre of the earth, and dead things… torturing, creatures, monsters, riddicule. He had though it would be more… frankly, hellish.

This though, was worse. Not knowing if he was the only living thing out there. Not knowing if there was any water around for miles and miles. Not knowing if he could survive here… He had no friends to help him, no enemies to kill him, and no family to mooch off of.

It was just him.

Alone.

Possibly forever.

"Damn it," he muttered under his breath as the wind picked up again, "and here I was thinking that the _Hellmouth _was bad."

It was cooling, which was a grateful respite from the heat on his back, but continuous so that it almost became chilling. With one part of him turned towards the wind, and one part of him turned towards the sun, he felt like he was both melting and freezing at the same time. And only that little tiny part of him, in the very centre, got the best of both worlds.

Ducking down into the grass to wait until the wind felt it had done it's job, he sat. The grass around him whistled, only making the feeling of absolute loneliness worse, but he continued to sit anyway. He needed the break badly; and so he sat his sword beside him.

And eventually, accidentally, fell asleep.

TBC

(1) The plant in context would be a Musk Thistle, or _Carduus nutanus_. These plants are huge, and can reach above and beyond seven feet in height. Xander wouldn't know what it is, because they are native to Asia and Europe. For more information, visit http:


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